


(Don't) Bite Me

by maggiemae815



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Clueless Derek Hale, Everyone Is Alive, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Season/Series AU, Protective Derek, at least, for himself, full shift derek, he sort of gets it, lotsa cursing, stiles is clueless too but, theyre mates and theyre morons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25642924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggiemae815/pseuds/maggiemae815
Summary: They thought they knew what they were getting into against the latest threat in good old Beacon Hills.""I don't like seeing you hurt," the Alpha confessed.Derek heard Stiles' heart skip a beat before the scent of sadness filled the air."Because I'm pack," Stiles stated, squeezing Derek's arm in appreciation, and his wolf cried out to make the smell go away."
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, background Scott/Kira - Relationship, background allison/isaac - Relationship
Comments: 7
Kudos: 310





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO I have not written in, um, 6 years? So please take this whole thing with a grain of salt. Sterek was my choice to ease back in to writing because they're just so wonderfully in love and completely oblivious to it haha. Hope it isn't a complete failure. Not beta'd because I have no patience and want to purge myself of it now because if I let myself think about it for too long I might never share it and be left feeling bereft.
> 
> Enjoy!

Deaton was sure their current foe was a witch, based on the altar-like remains at the 3 crime scenes where each man had been found drained.

"Drained of what?" Stiles had asked when the issue was first brought to their attention; because even after everything they had seen he couldn't contain his curiosity, morbid as it might be.

"Of everything," Deaton replied, no inflection, no grimace. When Stiles continued to look at him as if his curiosity still wasn't satisfied, he expanded with, "Imagine... human skin suits."

Everyone around Deaton shuddered and grimaced. Everyone except Derek.

The stoic werewolf looked just as unimpressed three nights later when Deaton gave his theory on who their current opponent(s) might be.

"I believe it's some sort of elemental witch who is punishing people for - "

"I don't think it's a witch **at all** ," Derek interrupted. "But these altars... it's almost as if the men are summoning whatever is killing them. Witches don't get summoned; they show up when they want, do what they want, and then leave. I would just rather we know more before assuming anything."

Deaton bristled a bit at that, and Stiles couldn't help but smirk. Derek's ability to get under the vets skin always satisfied Stiles, who felt like Deaton enjoyed withholding vital information as a form of self indulgence.

"We'll finishing looking more into what these men were doing in their personal lives and see if they've been up to anything that might lead us to a different conclusion before we make any moves, but 3 bodies is more than enough to have people sniffing around here that we do not want sniffing around," Noah reminded Derek.

"Yeah, my dad called and said that he might be coming here for a visit. You know that means they'll be sticking their noses in and making it a lot harder on us," Scott added.

"I just don't think we should rush into anything," Derek reiterated. "We can't go into this blind; someone could get hurt.

Stiles put his hand on the table next to where Derek's was resting, but he was looking between Scott and Deaton. "Derek's right, we need to know more. At the very least, how she's draining them. There's not a single mark on their bodies."

Cora shrugged, saying, "It's probably sucking them out through the mouths."

"Eugh, yeah, that's what I was thinking too, but I didn't want anyone to actually say it," Stiles said, pressing his palms down to ground himself as he imagined getting his insides sucked out through his mouth.

"And none of your research into the bestiaries narrowed down which creature does... that?" Scott asked, looking as revolted as Stiles felt.

Stiles, Kira, and Lydia all rolled their eyes at him, although Lydia's wasn't as fond as the other two's. 

"Do you even know how many beasts are out there? No, none of us do. That information is NOT updated properly, only some of it is digitized, and they can't ALL be in there because most of them probably just kill their victims and continue on their merry way. We might never know exactly what this thing is, and if we do, it'll be because WE combed through page after page to find it," Lydia reminded him, somehow managing to be huffy and aloof all at once. Stiles looked at her, as he always did, marveling in how she always managed to hold herself like she was both above and over everything, and yes, those were two different things.

He's pulled out of his regularly scheduled Lydia-admiration session by the pinky that brushes against his splayed hand; he hadn't even realized he and Derek had both been leaning forward with their hands not quite brushing each other on the table until Derek pulled back and crossed his arms over his chest. Once Stiles realized he had pulled his hand away he also noticed how their sides weren't barely-there pressed together anymore and he became hyper aware of the loss of warmth, which suddenly traveled up to his cheeks when he noticed Derek was watching him look between his hand and his side until their eyes met squarely. Derek's eyes were unreadable, which always made Stiles insides feel a certain way.

The conversation about who was gathering what information continued around them while they continued a silent conversation, and the biggest problem was Stiles had no idea what he was saying because he couldn't tell what Derek was saying and why the hell was it so hot in here?

The room got quiet and Stiles realized he had said last part out loud, so he continued while standing up and heading towards the door. "I mean geez, don't you wolves already run hot? Is this not California? Why is the heat on? Okay, I'm off to go see if I can narrow this down for us, I'll catch you all on the flippity flip."

As he pulled the front door shut behind him, he realized it was his own house he had just rushed out of. What the hell was wrong with him?

He slowly opened the door and, keeping his eyes averted, walked up to his room.

"Heat's not on, bud," his dad called up to him, and Stiles chose to ignore that and any other sound from the living room as he shut his bedroom door.

"What the hell," he whispered to himself quietly enough that the werewolves downstairs wouldn't hear. Except...

"Still got it bad for her, huh?" Derek asked from his spot in Stiles' computer chair, not even bothering to look up. Stiles wasn't even surprised to find him there, and seriously, he had a lot of analyzing to do this evening once he was alone and werewolf-free for the night. But that required being alone and werewolf free. Not facing the exact person he needed to think about.

"What? Who?" Stiles asked, completely at a loss. "What the hell?" he asked again. And then he added, "Why are you in my computer chair?"

Stiles couldn't be sure, but it looked like Derek took a deep breath before turning to face him, and he... was he almost smiling? It wasn't the most rare sighting lately but a smile on Derek's face always did something to Stiles' chest. And stomach. And dick.

"Figured I would try to lend a hand to the research effort. More hands make less work." Stiles and Derek shared a small smile at his words. Stiles knows he's totally and completely fucked, but he puts on some Letterkenny as background noise for their researching.

"I think I left off at Lampreys if you want to start from there," he said, handing Derek a leather bound tome. "Now lemme get to my computer," he nudged at his Alpha, shuffling Derek onto his bed. Derek sat in a huff and then got himself cozy, kicking off his shoes and bringing his knees up under the book as he leaned back against Stiles' headboard and pillow. Stiles swallowed hard at the sight of Derek in his bed, and turned away when Derek looked up. But if he sneaked a glance over at the werewolf and saw a flash of red that elicited more issues for his dick, he powered up his computer and ignored it. They had a killer to catch, and his time for analyzing the building tension with Derek would have to wait.

* * *

Two days later the pack found themselves readying for a counterattack against what they're now sure is a particularly nasty witch with an attitude problem; they last body (skin suit) they had found was completely hollow except for the left hand, which was giving them the finger. Stiles chuckled a bit and turned to Derek, who did not share in this mirth.

"The attacks are getting closer and closer together... we have to move quickly."

And even though Derek still didn't look completely convinced, he nodded his assent.

* * *

Stiles went home that night with the game plan in the back of his mind while the rest of his thoughts were filled with the pensive Alpha. Derek had a place to call home, a pack, had formed a friendship with both Noah and, somehow, Chris Argent, and he had actually used the word "home" in recent conversation. Stiles had been telling himself to not get used to his presence because Derek always, always left, but that didn't seem to be happening this time. And while, yes, they still had supernatural issues to deal with now and again, things had settled in everyone's lives enough that they were all thinking about genuinely experiencing life instead of just surviving. Well, Stiles was still thinking about it. Everyone else seemed a step ahead of him in that regard.

He'd enjoyed his time at Quantico but nothing felt quite right that far away from Beacon Hills. Luckily, small towns with a lot of weird happenings had a fairly high turnover rate in law enforcement, so when he had decided he would rather follow directly in his father's footsteps and applied to be join the department, when he had seen his dad and the packs reactions to him telling them he was staying, he felt a calm settle in him that he hadn't experienced since his mom was alive.

Over a year back and the feeling hadn't faded at all; it had expanded as everyone around him settled in. Derek had applied for a business loan to open his own garage ("Sweet, free TLC for Roscoe!" "Who says it'll be free?" "Tsch, like I haven't worked off the cost of labor in all these years of saving your ass!") so Cora got a job at the county college's coffee shop, which turned into her signing up for classes. Scott had proposed to Kira after Deaton sold him (at cost) the vet clinic and no one was happier for them than Allison and Isaac, who had joined forces both romantically and professionally to take over the Argent family business. Erica and Boyd were working on convincing everyone to go in together on a local homestead that was up for auction, and holy shit, everyone had become adults overnight and here was Stiles in his teenage room preparing to jerk off to thoughts of simmering red when he heard his window open.

"Derek!" he yelled, thanking whatever deity might actually exist that he hadn't gotten going yet.

"I don't like the plan," Derek said darkly, and shit, Stiles had finally gotten himself adjusted to not reacting to Derek's cologne but now he smelled like his cologne and the oil and gas of the garage and the leather of his jacket and Stiles was sleepy and vulnerable and now was not a good time!

"It's as good a plan as we've ever had. This thing is escalating and we have a responsibility to - "

"We don't know what this thing is and this plan involves YOU charging in head first as bait. I don't like it," Derek was clenching his fists and Stiles was alarmed to see claws that were sinking into his skin.

"Hey Sourwolf, calm down," Stiles soothed, as gently as he could soothe him because, "I'm not just BAIT, I'm a damn attack dog. Just 'cause I don't have fangs or claws," he gestured broadly at Derek's own that didn't seem to be receding, "does NOT mean I'm not a force to be reckoned with. Plus, we have the dagger; it's soaking in deer urine as we speak, we're all set."

"That only works if this is a benevolent woodland witch who has suddenly decided to ditch centuries of their M.O. to skinwalk."

They'd learned that a repeating pattern with each victims was that, while they were found in the woods, hollowed out and draped over the altars, what little indicators were left led the coroners to believe the time of death for each victim was at least 12 hours before they were found, and a few of them had been seen still alive in that time frame.

"We need a back up plan," Derek insisted.

"Why didn't you bring that up with the pack tonight?" Stiles wondered.

"Because," he huffed in response, and sometimes Stiles forgot how childish Derek could be when he wasn't getting what he wanted. This is why they got along so well. He related to the urge. "Because it's a good plan and I know it makes sense. I understand we need to act. I just. Don't like it."

Stiles rolled his eyes and settled himself back into the bed, but Derek was still chalk full of tension and Stiles was wondering if this concern was for him or something else. He patted the edge of his bed as an invitation for Derek to sit before he could question himself. Derek sat down with his back to Stiles, all stiff lines and tight muscles.

"I'm going to recreate the altar, do the incantation that Lydia found, stab the witch, and boom! Home for dinner," Stiles spoke softer than he had before and placed his hand in the center of Derek's back. "Like a freaking space heater," he mumbled to himself, suddenly feeling the weight of his exhaustion. Between patrol and research he hadn't been sleeping much lately, and then they got the call last night about the newest victim and he hadn't really gotten back to sleep before his shift. Now he smelled Derek and had the blankets piled all around him and the warmth of Derek's leather covered back under his hand and it was all he could to stop himself to falling asleep right then.

Except he must have because next thing he knew he was waking up to his alarm and Derek's jacket was still in his arms.

* * *

They set up the altar and Stiles spoke the incantation. Everyone was stationed up in the trees around the area, ready to pounce if anything went wrong. But nothing went anywhere. There was no movement, no sounds, no whispers, no goosebumps in reaction to a sudden wave of magic in the air; nothing.

Derek was just about to lightly gloat (he may have been right about them being wrong but people were still dying so he shouldn't act too smug) when he saw Stiles turn quickly and he was suddenly surrounded by a circle of orange light. It surrounded the altar and started stretching upwards until Stiles looked like he was behind orange glass. And there with him was what looked like a very large, very angry snake. Derek gave a shout and jumped towards the orange light, but it was solid. Stiles was speaking to the snake and slowly bringing out his knife when the snake's scales started flipping inside out until it looked like the first victim they had found. Derek snarled and started digging at the glass surrounding Stiles, screaming his name, but Stiles didn't take his eyes off the snake. Derek's panic increased tenfold when he registered that he couldn't heard anything from inside the orange circle, including Stiles' heartbeat.

"I don't need to steal the bodies to steal their faces. It's just more fun that way," Derek heard in his head. When he looked back at the snake it was looking at Derek through the glass, and he had Derek's face. "Usually."

Suddenly fire was blazing around the orange shield the snake had created and Derek couldn't see Stiles anymore but he heard him. Heard him scream and curse and his wolf howled, not even realizing that the rest of the pack had surrounded the circle as well, and were just as distressed. Lydia was screaming, "Stiles, STILES, the backup plan, use it!" at the top of her lungs but the roar of the fire surrounding him was deafening. Derek growled so hard he felt like his vocal cords were tearing when he realized that the screams he'd heard from Stiles were being projected into his head from the snake and he couldn't figure out what was real or not except that Stiles was in danger, Stiles was in danger and nothing he was doing was working.

Then as quickly as it started, the flames were extinguished, revealing the orange glass once again. The snake was still wearing Derek's face and Stiles was bleeding from his right forearm, but as the glass dissipated into nothingness Derek realized his snake doppelganger was lying on the ground dying with the knife in its throat. Its scales started fading back into view as Derek's face melted away, before they too disappeared and left behind a gnarled figure, something that might have once been close to human but no more. And then that decrepit husk sunk into the ground before it was swallowed whole by grass and dirt.

"Stiles!" Derek yelled, voice raw and louder than it needed to be now that the roar of the fire was gone.

"'m okay," Stiles mumbled, trying to pull his bleeding arm back from the Alpha.

"You're hurt, let me see," Derek said, reaching for his arm again. But when Stiles flinched away from him the werewolf took a step back as if he'd been punched. Stiles finally looked up at him and Derek could tell he had either had been crying or was about to start, and that felt like another punch.

"I said I'm okay," Stiles said, with a bit more conviction, before he started walking away from the altar. "And Derek was right; that was no witch," he said as he headed for the Jeep.

* * *

Stiles hated when Derek was right. Hated that they had been wrong and so, so unprepared. Hated that he **had** been the bait as the only human male in their pack that resembled the victims. Was the only one whose scent might not have immediately given away the trap. Fat lot of good that had done them. Had done him. His panic was threatening to overwhelm him by the time he got home. He felt guilty for how he had reacted, how he had turned away from the pack after it was over. But fuck. Fuck. It was his own fault he'd gotten hurt. His stupid human weakness and stupid human skin and stupid human emotions. And now he'd been bitten by some unknown shapeshifter while it was wearing Derek's face and who knows what the fuck was going to happen to Stiles now, not that any of it mattered if he couldn't catch his breath because he'd just asphyxiate alone in his room.

"Breathe Stiles, slows breaths, just like this."

Derek's stood behind Stiles and his arms were around him, his hands were splayed out on his chest, squeezing gently and releasing in time with his instructions to breathe in, out, in, out.

Once Stiles' breathing was under control Derek spun him around and reached for his injured arm.

"Could you not tell I wanted to be alone?" Stiles grit out, pulling his arm away and walking towards the bathroom. To his chagrin, Derek followed. He didn't even bother closing the bathroom door because he could tell the Alpha was in one of those moods where he wasn't prepared to let his most recently endangered pack member out of his sight. With a roll of his eyes, Stiles pulled back the shower curtain and stuck his arm under the spray of the showerhead.

"I fucked up," Stiles whispered. To himself. To his Alpha.

"No, we couldn't have seen that coming. We were unprepared. This wasn't your fault."

"Maybe not us being wrong. But this?" He pulled his arm out of the spray. "This was my fault."

Derek couldn't bring himself to look too closely at the bite on Stiles' arm. Stiles couldn't stop looking at it.

"What happened in there?"

* * *

Stiles was almost blinded by the orange light that surrounded him after the snake had appeared, but didn't take his eyes off of the creature as the orange hue spread upwards to surround them. He heard Derek yell out for him and then nothing.

"What are you and why are you here?" he asked the creature calmly.

He wasn't sure what unsettled him more, the sound of absolute silence or the way the snake's features transformed into that of a dead man.

"I am whatever I want to be, child. I am wherever I want to be, whenever I want to be, as whomever I'd like to be."

The dead man's mouth hadn't moved and yet Stiles heard the words clear as day. So this thing was a shapeshifter with some psychic abilities. Great.

"Well not really, since we've decided you can't be here murdering all willy nilly. Don't really care whose face you're wearing while you do it. We're here to put a stop to it."

"Ah, I'm sure it would matter whose face I wear," Stiles heard, and he didn't need to be psychic to know he wouldn't like what was coming. The scales were shifting again until he saw an all too familiar form taking shape in front of him. The snake turned towards the orange shield around them, looking through it as it finalized its form. Stiles brought the knife out slowly while the being had its back to him, preparing himself to attack the face that would be looking at him when he turned.

He lost his footing and almost dropped the knife when the flames roared in to life around them, and the sudden piercing of sound through the silence startled Stiles enough that the creature, the one wearing Derek's face, was suddenly right in front of him.

"Stiles!!!!" He could hear Derek screaming, but it was only in his head, and he resisted the urge to close his eyes and shake the sounds away.

"Derek! Fuck! I'm okay!" Stiles yelled, the distress in his Alpha's voice making him feel sick with worry. Worry for his Alpha, his pack, himself. What had he gotten himself into?

"Why are you yelling Stiles? I'm right here."

"You're not Derek. You're not anything," Stiles spoke, grip tightening on the knife.

"I could be everything, Stiles. I could be all that you want. I hear it, you know? I've long since learned how to listen to what no one else could hear, and I _hear_ your desires."

"They definitely don't include some faceless murderer, that's for sure," Stiles spoke, hating how this monster was using Derek's voice. Using Derek. Just another evil creature using Derek. The vitriol that filled him at the thought made him slash the knife at the thing, just barely grazing its shoulder. Stiles smiled when he saw blood welling at the slice.

"If you can bleed, you can die," he said.

He lunged forward, aiming for its throat, but it transformed its face into Derek's beta werewolf form and Stiles watched in horror as it sunk its teeth into his arm. The knife fell out of his hand, and the thing wearing Derek's face pulled away, licking Stiles' blood off of its lips.

"Too bad he'll never know just how delicious you taste," it said, and Stiles felt his stomach roil. But his survival instinct remained intact as he reached with his other hand for the knife and jumped up, using that momentum to throw the impostor Derek off balance and shove the knife into its throat.

"What are you?? What am I going to become?"

The snake creature just gurgled what might have been a laugh around the knife in its throat as the defenses around them ebbed away and the creature faded to dust.

* * *

Stiles was shaking as Derek listened to him tell what he could of what had happened while slowly cleaning his pack mate's injury.

"What do I smell like?" Stiles asked, throat choked.

"Stiles - "

"Am I... do I... still ?" He could barely get the words out, once again feeling his stomach rage. He lunged forward on wobbly legs and was sick in the toilet. Derek was right behind him with a wet wash cloth on his neck.

"You smell like you, Stiles. You smell like you, and blood, and grass, and more than a little anxiety."

"Ya fuckin' think?" he grumbled, trying to stop another wave of nausea from overtaking him.

"Not all shapeshifters can bestow the gift to others. It all depends on how it came to be. There's no reason to panic - "

" - until there's a reason to panic," Stiles finished for him. That's what Stiles was always saying. Since when was Derek the rational one? It was helping a bit, though. He sat up from the floor, still feeling shaky, and perched himself on the edge of the tub.

"I'm sorry I let you get hurt," Derek said, reminding himself once again what a shit Alpha he was. He couldn't protect anyone; not his pack, not Beacon Hills, and not the strong but breakable human in front of him who he wanted, _needed_ to protect more than just about anything.

"You wouldn't have been able to stop me if you tried, buddy, so don't even think about RSVP-ing to that pity party you're about to have."

Derek's eyebrows asked him what the hell that meant.

"OOOOOH WOE IS ME, I'M A FAILWOLF WHO CAN'T DO EVERYTHING AND PROTECT EVERYONE AT ALL TIMES." Stiles ignored the glower. "That was you, bee tee dubs."

"It's my job to protect the pack. Anything that happens to this pack is my fault. That's what leadership and responsibility means, Stiles." Derek's tone made it clear what he thought about the younger man's assessment of him.

"Just help me wrap this thing up so I can go back to figuring out what the hell just BIT me. Ya know. In case I turn into it!!"

Derek's heart dropped at the thought, and he went to the medicine cabinet to get the supplies.

"Is it a good sign that it hurts like hell?" he asked as Derek swaddled his arm in gauze, wishing Stiles didn't seem to hate it so much when he leeched his pain away, itching the draw out the hurt.

"I told you; stop worrying about it until there's a reason to. We're gonna go look this thing up until we can figure out what the hell it was and we'll go from there."

"We? I told you, I just want to be alone."

Derek let out a low growl.

"Yes, 'we'. I'm not going anywhere, Stiles. Deal with it."

And with that he finished putting the medical tape around the gauze and released Stiles' arm before stalking into his room and grabbing up one of the books he hadn't already looked over. When Stiles walked back into the room Derek flashed red eyes at him when he opened his mouth, and he let out a growl of his own before dropping himself in front of his computer. Derek, satisfied that Stiles was on the same page as him, settled into Stiles' bed like he owned the place, before losing himself in the pages, hunting for answers. Stiles was too frustrated and anxious to even enjoy the picture of Derek in his bed reading a book. He stared blankly at the computer screen for a moment before Derek spoke up.

"The rest of the pack is probably worried."

Stiles turned to him and glared, but knew he was right. When he picked up his phone there were 7 missed calls and, somehow, 8 voicemails?

_["Hey man, Derek went after you so I know you've got someone watching your back right now, but let me know you're okay. Also please remind your dad I can hear the voicemails he leaves my mom and it's just... not cool."]_

_["Tell Derek I have class in the morning so if anything terrible happens to let me sleep since I don't care. But you'd better be okay."]_

_["STILES IT WAS A LAMIA! THEIR BITES DON'T DO ANYTHING. I figured it out after it returned to its human form before crumbling. It was all basically an illusion. You're going to be fine! If you hadn't left in such a hurry I would have told you then, but I get it. Just stop panicking and get some sleep. You're going to be -"]_

The relief that washed over him was overwhelming. Stiles did a cursory check for himself on Lamias and it would seem that Lydia's deduction, as always, was apt. The relief was so huge it threatened to swallow him whole, and he had to hold back the tears. To get a bite he hadn't asked for from a creature that wasn't Derek but wore his face was not his idea of a great night. But at least he knew when he woke up tomorrow he would still be injured and human.

Derek ended up group texting the pack to let them know that Stiles had gotten Lydia's voicemail and was relieved but exhausted because Stiles had thrown himself from his computer chair to his bed, landing with his head right next to Derek's thigh. After he sent the text Derek thought about moving, thought about leaving and giving Stiles his privacy so he could digest his day, but Derek couldn't bring himself to get up. Instead he carded his fingers through Stiles' hair, and felt a warmth bloom in his chest, and his groin, at the approving sound the human made.

"I don't like seeing you hurt," the Alpha confessed.

Derek heard Stiles' heart skip a beat before the scent of sadness filled the air.

"Because I'm pack," Stiles stated, squeezing Derek's arm in appreciation, and his wolf cried out to make the smell go away.

"No. Because you're you - because you matter. To me."

And there, he finally said it. Sort of. It only took him how many years. Stiles moved to sit up, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Derek knew he had been just moments away from falling asleep, but all he had wanted was for that smell to dissipate. "We can talk tomorrow. Go to sleep."

Stiles glanced over at the leather jacket Derek had left, tucked under Stiles' pillow, and didn't even bother to blush. He slow blinked at the Alpha and said, "Stay."

Derek nodded, slowly stripping himself and then Stiles down to just boxers, before tucking them into bed together.

He couldn't quite believe this was happening and was so thankful that Stiles couldn't hear his pounding heart, though he wasn't entirely certain he couldn't feel it where his chest was pressed against the smaller man's back.

"I stabbed you tonight," Stiles whispered harshly, a tear dropping onto the arm Derek has under his head. The wolf in him whined, and so did he, pulling him closer.

"I'm right here. That wasn't me. I'm right here," he repeated gently, nosing against the back of Stiles' neck, scenting and comforting.

The sadness in his scent was gone, replaced by something the werewolf hadn't smelled on him before. He was still trying to puzzle it out as they drifted off to sleep, and whatever it was, he never wanted to smell anything else. And in the morning, in the morning he would tell Stiles that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe this time I'll be lucky,  
> Maybe this time he'll stay..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want them to be happy, ya know? I wanted to write smut but it's just fluff. It's just all fluff.

Derek woke up slowly, his senses reminding him why and where he had fallen asleep the night before. The only thing off was the absence of his -

"Stiles?" he croaked groggily.

"I'm in here, just redressing the wound that still exists," the young officer replied, sounding much happier than most people would about being injured. "Sorry if I woke you, I had to make sure I called out of work at a decent enough time. Thank fuck for Jordan covering my shift, I am definitely not up to slogging through paperwork today," he continued. He wandered back into his bedroom and was still only wearing his boxers. Derek was reminded of his own state of undress when Stiles came in and stared blatantly before saying, "Thanks for staying last night."

Derek nodded, watching Stiles as he walked towards the bed. When he was right next to it Derek swung his legs over the side and reached, gently, for his arm.

"How's it look?" he asked, trying to sniff out any strange smells coming from the wound. All he picked up on was blood, neosporin, and Stiles.

"Looks like a bite wound that was properly treated and is trying to heal. So Lydia was right, and I'm not gonna turn into a scaly, bloodthirsty monster," he said, thinking about just how glad he was not to become something with the urge to suck someone's insides out through their mouths, trying to keep his mind from focusing too much on the vast expanse of Alpha in his bed. When Derek started tracing his fingers around the bandage, Stiles shivered and slowly withdrew his arm from his touch. "Um, so, uh, I feel like I remember you said something about... talking?" he gulped, trying to get his beating heart under control.

Derek heard the spike in his heart rate and was suddenly nervous, hands growing sweaty and, shit, what was it about this kid that did this to him? Although, he wasn't a kid anymore. The thought and implications behind where all of this might lead made Derek's mouth go dry, but not all nerves are a sign of something bad approaching. Maybe, for once, they were nerves of anticipation and excitement. Derek took a steadying breath.

"I'd like to take you out some time," Derek rumbled, eyes darting to the floor and then back up. The smile on Stiles' face was something Derek wanted to see every single day for the rest of his life, and man, did that feel relieving and terrifying to admit to himself.

He was still wrapping his head around his own revelation when he was met by loud guffaws of laughter and Stiles hunched over, hands on his knees, in near hysterics.

"Oh. Okay. I guess it was sort of a stupid question," Derek began, flushing and resisting the urge to rub his tightening chest.

"NO, no, Derek, I am so not laughing at you. Of _course_ I'll go out with you. I'd go anywhere with you, ya goon. I just - I guess I'm kind of blown away. Like, are we the biggest idiots or what?"

"What." Derek wanted to bottle up the sound of Stiles' laughter with the smell he was radiating, the same one from last night, the one Derek couldn't quite identify. He'd only ever really smelled it on Stiles in recent years, when the pack was all together for anything besides monster hunting. His senses were on overload with Stiles and he just wanted. He **wanted**.

"Don't act like you don't know. Everyone knows," Stiles said, still with a bemused grin on his face. He reached out and put his hand over Derek's heart, stepping fully into his space.

Derek just raised his eyebrows in the way he knows Stiles knows mean to get to the point.

And there it was again, that scent, that smile. Except this time Stiles looked just a little nervous.

"Are you seriously making me spell this out for you? You're the one who doesn't know how to express himself."

The Alpha huffed and his eyes flashed red, getting frustrated that Stiles was making this so difficult for him.

"What do you call me asking to take you out?"

"I call it redundant, honestly," Stiles said, but this time the nerves were gone from his beatific smile as he sidled closer to Derek, "considering we just spent the night together in bed, and I've been in love with you since I was a teenager."

Derek was gobsmacked, and Stiles laughed again before leaning forward and pressing their lips together. The werewolf gave himself one more moment, letting this reality sink in, before he pressed into the kiss, allowing himself to finally, finally, get lost in the feeling of Stiles pressed against him.

He wasn't sure who deepened the kiss or who pushed who onto the bed, but soon he was on his back with Stiles on top of him, legs slotted together, tongues rubbing against one other in time with the maddening press of their cloth covered and straining erections.

Stiles pulled back, breathless, but still unable to stop his mouth.

"Not that I'll complain about being wined and dined and wooed because I can't think of a single downside to experiencing those things with you!"

"Stiles," Derek hissed out through clenched teeth, sucking in a breath when Stiles presses against him, "god, you make me - " and his eyes flickered between red and their usual stormy blue green.

"I'm not afraid of it," Stiles insisted, tilting his head to offer his neck to Derek. To his Alpha.

Derek growled and flipped them over, pulling their boxers off, until it was just blissful skin against skin and both of them groaned when their dicks brushed together, pre-come smearing sloppily down Stiles' thigh as Derek lowered himself and took him in his mouth.

No sexual experience he'd had in his life could have prepared him for Derek swallowing his come while he jerked himself to completion.

"I'd like it if you took me out some time, definitely," Stiles breathed out, and Derek blushed slightly but propped himself up on his side, hand reaching out to rest on Stiles' neck, fingering the marks he'd left there.

"So you're in love with me?" And Derek could write off the slight tremor in his voice as post-coital weariness.

"I said what I said," Stiles responded, running his fingers gently across Derek's chest not meeting his eyes.

"I can't remember not being in love with you," Derek voice doesn't tremble now, no hesitation or reservation in his tone.

If Stiles was a wolf, he would have howled. Instead he just tumbled forward into Derek's arms and kissed him until they both couldn't breathe, then kissed him some more.


End file.
